


The Grimmauld Christmas Curse

by crimsonheadache, inspired_being, kitty_collab (kitty_fic), Ladderofyears, Vaysh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aunt Walburga (portrait), Christmas Decorations, Christmas Tree, Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, M/M, Meme Insert, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28335627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonheadache/pseuds/crimsonheadache, https://archiveofourown.org/users/inspired_being/pseuds/inspired_being, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitty_fic/pseuds/kitty_collab, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaysh/pseuds/Vaysh
Summary: "I'm telling you, Hermione, the house is out to get me." Harry poured two cups of tea and passed one across the kitchen table."Don't be ridiculous, Harry, it is not out to get you."Or is it?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 7
Kudos: 107
Collections: Harry/Draco Owlpost 2020





	The Grimmauld Christmas Curse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CelestialCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialCat/gifts).



> Dear Apriicat, this was written as a collaborative experiment by several authors and we only hope you enjoy it nearly as much as we enjoyed creating it for you! Merry Christmas!

  
"I'm telling you, Hermione, it's out to get me." Harry poured two cups of tea and passed one across the kitchen table. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry, your house is not out to get you." 

"Well, it must hate Christmas then. You should see the mangled wreath on my door and let's not even mention what happened to the garland." 

"Surely it's not that bad and –" 

A loud crash sounded from the living room. They both jumped up from the table. Harry could just barely keep the tea-pot from slipping from his hands, when Kreacher appeared in the door. 

"Young Master and the Mud– er, and Young Master's guest may want to stop defiling Mistress's precious tea service and see what happened to the Yule tree." He vanished, without even waiting for Harry's answer. 

"Oh, no! Not the tree!" Harry raced up the stairs after Kreacher into the living room. 

It smelled wonderful, pine-fresh and earthy, and a bit like snow. Harry had loved bringing a bit of forest into the dusty room with its ancient rugs and overstuffed chairs and chesterfields. 

"Did you get the tree from Hagrid?", Hermione whispered. She had come up from the kitchen right behind Harry.

Harry nodded in speechless horror. The tree was a fir with thick lush needles; its height was over seven feet. Yesterday, when he had Levitated it in front of the fireplace, there had been just enough space between its tip and the high ceiling for a tiny fairy holding a golden star. 

Now, the tip of the tree was touching Harry's shoes. In its fall it had taken with it everything that stood in its path: the knickknacks on the mantelpiece, chairs and side-tables, a whole row of Chinese vases. And –

“FILTHY HALF-BREED!” came the mangled screech from Aunt Walburga, whose portrait was lying on the ground faced down. Harry could practically see the frame shaking with anger from being toppled down. 

He looked around. The tree must have snagged her frame and took the painting down with it. Kreacher was always moving her around to different spots in the house, ignoring Harry’s complaints each time he did so. “Mistress would like to see the Christmas decorations. Kreacher will move her every day, so she stays in the Christmas spirit", Kreacher had just explained to Harry yesterday.

“HOW DARE YOU SPIT ON THE BLACK LEGACY WITH THIS HORRENDOUS EXCUSE FOR THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT! AND INVITING A MUDBLOOD OVER NO LESS -!” 

Yeah, Christmas spirit my arse, Harry thought dryly, as Kreacher Apparated into the living room. 

“What a mess,” he croaked, while his beady eyes looked around with distaste. “Poor mistress would be so disappointed to see her house in such a state. I must go now and tend to her.” 

Harry muttered a good riddance as the house-elf took the portrait off the floor and vanished with it, no doubt Apparating to a place somewhere else in the house to haunt Harry later. 

“Oh my... Well, I’m sure we can fix this…” Hermione’s voice cracked as she attempted to pick up the massive tree and immediately discarded that task to pick up some broken pieces of glass from the vases. 

Waving his wand, Harry attempted to save her the trouble by mending the broken knickknacks from the mantle along with all the rest the tree had destroyed in its path. But to no avail. His magic didn’t work. Harry tried a few more times, each time getting more frustrated. 

“What the buggering fuck!” He almost threw his wand across the living room as his last incantation did nothing more than spout out a few sparks. The broken pieces of glass still lay there on the ground, unmoving.

Hermione pulled out her wand and tried the same incantations and a few more Harry had never heard of, but she got the same result. Nothing.

"See," said Harry. "Now, do you believe me?" 

Hermione sighed, "Yes, I believe you now. I've never heard of a curse like this, though." 

Harry looked around, making sure they were alone, then whispered, "Do you think Kreacher could have created a curse like this?" 

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, clearly outraged at the suggestion. "Why would he deliberately curse the house he loves? Seriously." 

"Okay, okay. It was just a thought, given how weird this curse is." 

"I don't think this is house-elf magic. It's more likely an ancient curse placed on the house by Sirius's ancestors. You will need to contact a professional curse breaker to lift it."

\------

"It'll be okay, Harry." Ron patted Harry's shoulder as ornaments whizzed and spun all around them. "Bill's sorry he can't come himself, but he swears he's sending the best cursebreaker he has." 

"We'll get this sorted in time for Christmas," Hermione agreed. 

Harry knew she was trying to stay positive, but even her optimism was beginning to wilt under the onslaught of flying Christmas decor. 

"I hope so," Harry said, as he ducked to avoid another flying ornament. "This is getting out of hand." 

At the sound of the floo, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank Merlin, they're here!"

Harry turned to the fireplace and to the cursebreaker whom Bill considered the very best in the whole of England. 

Harry's eyes travelled across shapely leather-clad thighs and fitted robes. The face was familiar but the smirk worn by the wizard made Harry shiver. 

Draco Malfoy, his childhood nemesis (and childhood crush) stood there, as large as life and twice as handsome. 

"The Chosen One himself," Draco said, raising an eyebrow in his direction. "I was just about to swallow my first Firewhisky of the festive season when I was rudely called away from Zabini’s Christmas party. Still, it shouldn't be too difficult to put pay to this little problem. Potter, could you give me a rundown of the phenomenon you've witnessed?"

Harry felt his cheeks flush but luckily when he found his voice he didn't sound as surprised as he felt. "We think it's a curse put in place by one of Sirius’s ancestors. One of YOUR ancestors, Draco. It particularly seems to hate the tree and any kind of Christmas decoration." He smiled wryly. "Perhaps it thinks it's a Muggle tradition that shouldn't besmirch their home?"

Malfoy huffed indignantly and rolled his silver-grey eyes. "Firstly, what do you think Yule is?" He moved away from the fireplace, careful not to bring his polished black shoes into contact with what was left of the sparkling baubles and the beeswax candles. "And secondly, this is the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. I know for certain that it has nothing against Christmas decorations." 

His haughty voice turned softer on the last words, and if this hadn't been Malfoy, Harry would have sworn a light blush had crept upon his cheeks.

"You must have visited when Cygnus Black was still alive?" said Hermione. 

"Correct, Granger." Malfoy moved his long fingers along the mantelpiece and the backrest of a turned-over chesterfield. 

"You celebrated Christmas here?" Harry imagined little Draco, blond and posh in a velvet dress like Little Lord Fauntleroy. "With a tree and garlands and twinkling stars in the windows and all?" 

The enchanted stars in the windows had been Harry's biggest disappointment. They had lasted a mere ten seconds before every single one had exploded into clouds of ash. 

"Uh-hm," Malfoy replied with an uncharacteristic lack of words. He seemed focused on a patch of dust on an old rug. Harry could see nothing wrong with it, just a stretch of an Oriental rug, a flowery pattern in sombre colours. 

"Is something wrong with –" 

"Was this rug recently moved?" Malfoy asked, rudely interrupting Harry. 

"Er," said Harry. 

"Yes," said Kreacher, Apparating out of nowhere to Malfoy's side.

Harry bit back a surprised curse as the elf appeared out of nowhere again, glaring down at Kreacher. But Kreacher ignored Harry and instead stared up at Malfoy with wide eyes as if he himself hung up the moon. 

“Master Black, Kreacher is so thrilled to have you back here at your ancestral home once more.” Kreacher nodded, his dark eyes stuck on Malfoy’s pinched face. 

“Yes, yes. Hello, elf," Malfoy drawled. "Explain to me why this rug was moved in the first place.” 

“Ah yes, indeed.” Kreacher nodded again, this time slower and he looked close to tears as he spun his tale. “Kreacher tried desperately to stop Young Master from moving the ancient rug from its proper place, but Master doesn’t listen. He never listens.” 

Malfoy’s thin pursed lips turned up slightly in a diabolical smirk. “Oh, doesn't he?” 

“Kreacher, that’s enough.” Harry placed himself between the house-elf and Malfoy but Kreacher side-stepped him. He was clearly too entranced to be speaking to a member of the Black family to listen to his actual master. 

“Ah yes, Master Black. Even the other day as I was sweeping the floors upstairs, minding my own business, mind you, Master Potter came trudging through the living room completely in the nude, of all things –” 

“All right, Kreacher! I think we have heard enough!” 

“The audacity of it –” 

“Kreacher!” Harry roared, and the elf looked up to him, blinking once before shrugging slightly. 

“Kreacher is only doing Master Black’s bidding, Sir.” 

Malfoy cleared his throat. “Yes, thank you oh so much, Kreacher. As much as I would love to hear more about Potter’s indiscretions, I have a job to do. Now, the rug?”

Harry followed Malfoy and Kreacher to the spot where the rug was a bit rumpled. Kreacher helpfully explained that this was caused by Young Master having tripped on the rug and fallen down on it, without a stitch of clothing on him. Harry secretly swore to gift Kreacher a pair of smelly old socks on Christmas Day.

"Ah, yes, this is exactly what I'm looking for." Malfoy pulled out quill and parchment and scratched down a note.

"Um… what has this rug got to do with the house destroying all the Christmas decorations?" Harry asked.

"This house has never taken well to change. I suspect destroying your decorations has been a way for it to protest this particular change."

"Master Black is wise. Kreacher tried to tell Master Potter but he wouldn't listen to Kreacher."

Harry glared at the house-elf. "Kreacher," he said warningly.

"You should listen to your elf, Harry. He has served this family for generations and knows this house much better than you.”

“That’s rich, coming from you," Harry blurted out and immediately regretted it when he saw the pained look on Malfoy's face. "I mean, what should I do about my Christmas tree? It can’t be as simple as straightening out a rug, can it?”

"I think putting the rug back in order would go a long way of showing the house that you respect it and its ancestors."

"Indeed it would, Master Black," said Kreacher, then turned to Harry. "The Mistress' and Master's portraits would also appreciate it if you ceased walking the halls without any clo–" 

"Yes, Kreacher. I get the idea. I'll stop," Harry felt his cheeks burning and he was getting very uncomfortable about the amount of information Kreacher was divulging. Malfoy seemed to find it amusing, judging by the smirk on his face as he looked Harry up and down. 

"What?" Harry blurted out.

Malfoy shook his head, smirk as wide as ever. "Nothing, _Young Master Potter_."

"Master Black, may Kreacher move the rug back to its rightful place?"

"Harry, do you have any objections?"

"I don't think I have any choice, do I?"

"There is no changing some people or things when it comes to old magic. Maybe you should concentrate your energy on something else. I would hurry you, but I'm getting paid for my time and watching you get flustered is turning out to be much more entertaining than Zabini's party promised."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Kreacher and, I'm sure, this house already respects my ancestry but as the new owner, _you_ need to earn its respect. There is no point in me giving Kreacher the orders. It needs to come from you if you want these attacks on your attempts at _change_ to stop."

Kreacher shifted his gaze from Malfoy to Harry. Harry took a deep breath and swallowed some of his pride. "Yes, Kreacher, you may move this rug to its rightful place."

Kreacher bowed to Harry and clicked his fingers. The Oriental rug wriggled a bit, then flattened into place as if nobody had ever tripped over it.

There was a loud whooshing sound and a tinkling of glass. Lots of glass. Harry shot up from the rug to take in his living room. The tree was upright with all its decorations repaired and back on its branches. The broken Chinese vases, the cracked portraits and figurines from the mantelpiece – all that had previously resisted all Reparo Charms was now fixed and in their rightful places. Harry couldn't believe his eyes but even Aunt Walburga's portrait had returned and hung - SILENTLY - on the wall.

Both Ron and Hermione's mouths were open in shock as they stared around the room.

"Well, it would seem my job here is done," Malfoy announced briskly. "I'll owl you my bill."

"But you didn’t do anything...?" Harry said but Malfoy was already at the fireplace. 

With a quick gesture Malfoy threw some Floo Powder into the flames, stepped inside the fireplace and was gone before Harry could glance one last time at his leather-clad thighs and admire the cut of his black robes.

Harry turned to Hermione and Ron. "What the –"

"Malfoy." Ron rolled his eyes.

"Best curse-breaker in England," Hermione added with a grin.

"I guess so," Harry said thoughtfully. Paying this particular bill might require a personal visit to Malfoy's office at Gringotts. Next year. Very early in the next year. But now it was time for – "Let's get the turkey ready for... Christmas dinner!"

  



End file.
